


One bad jump

by unacaritafeliz



Series: Russian Skate Fam [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Families of Choice, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Rated T for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23140744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unacaritafeliz/pseuds/unacaritafeliz
Summary: Yuri isn't crying.He may have fucked his quad salchow and fallen to the ice like a baby and hidden himself in a bathroom stall to avoid having to talk to anyone about it but he isn't fucking crying about it. Unlike some Yu(u)ris he could mention, Yuri Plisetsky still has some sense of self respect.[Over two years after the Sochi bathroom debacle, Yuri and Yuuri meet in another bathroom]
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Yuri Plisetsky
Series: Russian Skate Fam [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931728
Comments: 4
Kudos: 105





	One bad jump

Yuri isn't crying.

He may have fucked his quad salchow and fallen to the ice like a fucking baby and hidden himself in a bathroom stall to avoid having to talk to anyone about it but he isn't fucking crying about it. Unlike some Yu(u)ris he could mention, Yuri Plisetsky still has some sense of self respect. Despite this important fact, Yuri can see the parallels between this and the dumbass stunt he pulled two years ago in Sochi and he knows, deep down, that that's why Katsuki Yuuri is standing on the other side of the cubicle door, asking to be let in.

Yuri wonders if Katsuki will go away if he stays very, very quiet.

"I know you're in there, Yurio," Yuuri says, tiredly. He sounds like he's talking to a particularly difficult child, not a skater who won gold in his senior debut. "Open the door."

"Fuck off, pig!" Yuri snarls through the door. It feels awful to call Katuski 'pig' again, having dropped the nickname after learning more about Katsuki's body image issues. Still, it'll be worth it if it convinces Katsuki to leave him alone. "That's not my fucking name."

Katsuki sighs. "Yuri," he says. "Yura? Please. Open the door."

Yuri covers his face with his hands and exhales sharply into his palms. The idiot isn't going to leave him alone. Yuri sets his shoulders, squares his jaw and flings the door open, only despairing for a moment that it opens inwards and he can't slam it into Katsuki's nosy face like he so desperately wants to. He storms out, shoving Katsuki until he's crowded up against the opposite wall, his jacket gripped in Yuri's hands. He glares at him, so hard it puts his Sochi performance to shame.

"What the fuck do you want, Katsudon?" he snarls.

The Katsuki Yuuri from the Sochi bathroom would have trembled at Yuri's harsh tone. This Katsuki doesn't. He keeps his back straight and his head high, his eyes locked on Yuri's.

"I want to know if you're alright, Yuri," Katsuki says.

Fucking Katsudon. He cares so much about everything. He's so fucking sincere. Yuri absolutely can't stand him.

"Of course, I'm alright," Yuri mutters. He shoves Katsuki roughly away, releasing his death grip on the jacket. He glares at the floor. "I just completely fucked up my chance at winning Europeans, why wouldn't I be alright?"

"You haven't fucked up any..." Katsuki starts.

"Oh, you think so?" Yuri snarls, looking up at him. "You think I can still beat your precious Viktor after a performance like that? You think I could beat Chris? Fuck, even fucking _Georgi_ could probably pull off a free program good enough to wipe the floor with me."

"That's not fair to Georgi," Katsuki reprimands. It's almost enough to make Yuri feel bad about trying to drag his friend and rink-mate down with him. "And it's not fair to you. You're not the first person to ever fall during a routine, Yuri."

"Yeah, of course not," Yuri snaps. "You fall in 99% of your performances."

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "Yeah, sure," he says. "And yet I've only cried in the bathroom one of those times. And that was mostly because of Vicchan anyway."

"I'm not crying," Yuri says.

"Sure," says Katsuki, with a shrug. "If you want to get technical about it."

"You wouldn't get it," Yuri mutters. "You fucked up an entire Grand Prix Final and the world still worshipped the ground you walk on. We can't all get by being likeable, some of us actually have to win shit."

Katsuki blinks at him, actually caught off guard for the first time in the conversation. Yuri's eyes widen, suddenly aware that he might have revealed something he shouldn't have.

"Yura," Katsuki breathes. "Is that what this is about? Do you feel like you have to win to prove yourself?"

Yuri shrugs. He hates this, hates _Katsuki_ , hates how absolutely vulnerable he gets when faced with Katsuki caring about him so fucking much. It's gross, and it's embarrassing and Yuri absolutely fucking hates it.

"You don't need to win medals to prove your worth," Katsuki says, softly. "Viktor and I, the whole team at the rink, we know how good you are. We know you're an incredibly talented and hardworking skater, and we know you're a pretty good person too, even if you'd rather die than let us acknowledge it. Of course we'd like for you to win whenever you can, but you're still important to us when you lose. One bad jump doesn't define you, Yura. Not to _us_. Not to anyone who's ever seen you skate either."

Yuri sniffs. He's still not crying. His eyes might be a little teary though.

Yuri's not an idiot. He knows that, for whatever reason, Katsuki and Viktor like him. He's never heard either of them say it like that though. He's never really heard anyone speak about him like that, not even his Dedushka who is a man of few words, despite obviously loving Yuri unconditionally.

And it _helps_. Sure, it still sucks that he fucked up his jump and his chances at winning, but it doesn't feel as life ending as it did five minutes ago. His friends will stay by him. And he'll just have to show everyone else next time.

"Shut the fuck up, Katsudon," Yuri says, softly, instead of articulating any of that. He wipes his nose with the sleeve of his costume, sparing a singular thought to how viciously Lilia would kill him if she knew. "Don't act like you know me."

"Alright, Yurio," says Katsuki, rolling his eyes. He nudges Yuri gently towards the sink. "Come on. I'll take you back to the hotel."

Yuri, who had been moving in the direction he was being pushed, plants his feet. "What the fuck, Katsuki?" he asks. "You can't leave. Viktor hasn't skated yet."

Katsuki smirks. "I didn't know you cared so much about Viktor, Yura," he says.

Yuri feels his face heat up. "I don't," he spits out, storming over to the sink. He slaps the taps on and washes his hands more aggressively than necessary. "I just know the old man will be fucking insufferable if you miss his skate and I'll have to hear about it until he dies."

Katsuki smiles at him, that stupid little grin that's ridiculously soft and unbearably fond, the type he saves for when Yuri's done something he's wrongly interpreted as 'sweet'. 

"The hotel's only five minutes away, I can be back in time for Vitya's skate," Katsuki says, with a shrug. "Or, you and I could go hide out in the locker room and wait for him. I have piroshki in my bag."

Yuri bites his lip as he considers this. On one hand, he's really fucking done with people and doesn't want to deal with the reporters or Yakov and Lilia or, god forbid, the motherfucking Angels right now. On the other hand, Viktor is... someone that Yuri doesn't completely hate all the time, and it would be nice to see his return to skating.

Not that Yuri can ever admit that out loud.

"Did you use Dedushka's recipe?" he asks instead.

Katsuki smiles. "Da," he says.

"I guess we can go hide in the locker room and wait for the old man to skate then." Yuri grumbles, even though he knows Katsuki isn't fooled by his tone at all. "Wouldn't want you to accidentally miss it or whatever."

"Alright," says Katsuki, still smiling like he's got Yuri all figured out. Yuri will never admit it, but he does. "I'm ready when you are, Yura."

Yuri looks up at himself in the mirror. His eyes look suspiciously red for someone who hasn't been crying, but his eyeliner is still in place. He smooths down his hair, and catches Katsuki's eye in the mirror.

"Hey, Katsuki?" he says. "Thanks, I guess."

"No thanks necessary, Yura," says Katsuki. "And, you know, for what it's worth, I still think you have a shot at getting a medal tomorrow."

Yuri sighs. There's no point in either of them pretending Yuri still had a shot at this. Katsuki has as good a chance at medalling at Europeans as Yuri does right now and, honestly, that's okay. It sucks, but it's okay.

"You've already done your pep-talk, Katsuki," Yuri says. "You don't need to lie to me too."

"I'm serious!" Katsuki protests. "You saw JJ get the bronze at the Grand Prix after messing up his short program, so you know it's possible. Unless you're saying you're not as good as JJ..."

"What?!" Yuri yells, spinning around to face Katsuki properly. "Of course, I'm better than that _shithead_ JJ."

Yuuri laughs, and claps his hand against Yura's shoulder.

"If you say so, Yura," he says. He smiles and turns around, walking towards the door to the bathrooms. He pushes it open and then turns around and winks. "Let's go."

Yuri shakes his head, smiles and follows.

Fucking Katsudon.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be part of a much larger 5+1 fic about the Russian team looking after each other.
> 
> I may write the other parts someday.


End file.
